Ties That Bind Ties That Break
by thedreamsarecollapsing
Summary: Arthur returns to one of his many hide aways after the Fischer job and finds himself struggling with his grasp on reality. To make matters worse Eames shows up looking like he owns the place. For once in his life Arthur is speachless. Also is Arthur/Eames. I will update every Monday.
1. Chapter 1

**1. Returning Home **

Arthur's home (one of his many hideouts) was surprisingly messy. Papers were strewn and piled on every available surface, which in this case was not a large space. This particular hide away was located in Sweden. It had three rooms, a bathroom, a bedroom and a kitchen/living room. The walls were all varying shades of brown and crème. The apartment held little to no personal items since this wasn't one that Arthur visited frequently. One of his favorite living spaces was his flat in Paris but after the Fischer job he was happy to avoid Paris for a while.

Leaving the airport felt strange for Arthur though it shouldn't have. He had done it countless of times before. With the job done there was no point in keeping contact. The rationality was there, but Arthur still felt weird about it. Cobb, Eames, Ariadne, and Saito all going about their business in the airport acting like they didn't know each other, like they hadn't just gone through one of the most stressful and draining jobs of Arthur's career. Cobb was with his kids by now, Ariadne back in Paris, Saito back to his business, Yusuf to Mombasa and Eames was who knows where. Arthur's skin was still crawling from the last goodbye Eames had given him. He had leaned over to get his bag and then felt warm breath on his ear and heard a, "Goodbye Darling." When he turned around he didn't see anyone. Eames was nowhere to be seen.

To distract himself Arthur decided he would tidy up. The only fractionally clean thing was his closet filled with his meticulous suits. He took the ones he had stuffed in his suitcase and laid them on his bed. He got out the iron and board from deep in the back of the closet and started on his suits which where wrinkled from being carelessly thrown into his case. When each item of clothing was smooth and wrinkle free he hung each one up in his closet. Almost as far deep as the iron was his casual clothes. Navy and forest green sweaters, light blue and pink button ups that were slightly too big on him and size medium t-shirts that his mother had given him whenever she had to travel somewhere for work. Folded on the top shelf were his jeans and sweatpants. He pulled a pair of soft, black sweatpants and a deep purple t-shirt that read 'I heart NY' on it. Then he got to work on organizing the closet. There weren't very many clothes in it, three or four suits well seven now that he had unpacked his bag, the formerly mention shirts/sweaters and the iron board. Arthur earned for his more familiar clothes in Paris, but Paris only made him think of the job, which made him think of Eames.

Next to suffer Arthurs cleaning wrath was the kitchen/living room. It was a small space with a counter and sink in the corner and a microwave plugged in and a mini fridge stacked on top of it. A table and two chairs were opposite the old couch that Arthur had picked up at a garage sale. The coffee table and small TV were also cramped into the space. The room looked like someone had tried to meld all of their rooms into one; all that was missing was a bed. Luckily Arthur had his own room for that.

Arthur had never minded small spaces. The apartment he was in was only slightly smaller than the one he, his mom and his brother had lived in for his whole childhood. His mom still lived there now, but he hadn't seen her in years. Not his visits had stopped, since his line of business had gotten too risky, too dangerous to have attachments. The thought occurs to Arthur that he could go back. He could dream up his old life and live there forever. Since Cobb was supposedly retired he had left the PASIV and extra Somnacin vials with Arthur. He could go back to a world where it was just himself, his mother, his brother, and his dreams. He could get a job and send his little brother theater school and live a safe life, but Arthur knew it was a bad idea. What kind of job would he even get after coming from this? He would be around no one that would understand the addictive adrenaline rush from dreaming, no one to tell him that no he wasn't crazy. It would also mean that he would live in a world without Eames and for some reason Arthur knew that he never wanted to live in a world without Eames.

The thoughts unsettled him so he started stacking papers. Old job research and research for future ones. In one pile he found all of the maps he had once printed, all of the places that he had tracked Eames to. He put them all in the shred pile, but conveniently forgot to shed them later. Soon good portions of the papers were cleared up. Set into piles lined up against a wall. The PASIV had gone into one of his kitchen cabinets until it was needed next.

The mix of having only stale cereal, a box of minute-rice, and a bottle of ketchup in his fridge and being too tired to go get anything led to Arthur just going to bed. That it seemed, was easier said than done. He lay awake in the dark room. The clock next to him said 2:37am in bright red numbers. Apparently sorting out his papers had taken longer than he thought. He reached for his totem, which sat next to the clock. He absently rolled the die around in his hand staring at the blank ceiling. Finally his eyes closed and sleep took hold of him, his hand clutching his totem went slack.


	2. Chapter 2

**2. The Nightmare**

Arthur rarely dreamed anymore but that night was an exception. He woke up his legs tangled in the sheets and sweat running down the small of his back and making his hands and forehead sticky. This is a perfectly normal reaction, Arthur told himself. He had been through a lot of stress the past few weeks. That didn't stop him from reaching for his totem on his nightstand, only to find himself grabbing air. He must have fallen asleep with it in his hand. He ripped off his sheets searching for it. He tried to tell himself that he would know if this was a dream or not, that he had enough experience, but it did no good. He only had one thing keeping him linked to reality and he had misplaced it. It was then that he saw a red glow coming from the floor. It had only taken a minute for him to find the die laying on the floor next to his bed, but it had felt like forever the panic that had been growing inside him with each passing second was starting to go away as he took long, deep breaths. To be honest the panic and fear he had felt scared him. He had seen what happened when people lost their grip of reality and it wasn't pleasant. You don't know whom you can trust, you don't know what is real and what is a dream and after a while you even become unsure as to whom you are. Death seems like the only answer. You'll either wake up in a chair, needle in your arm or you'll be put out of your misery, to the only thing you're certain of, death.

The clock now flashed 5:12am. Going back to sleep was a lost cause so Arthur got up. He microwaved the minute-rice and sat down on the couch, a book in hand. He tried to read his mind refused to focus, which was unnatural for him. Usually when he immersed himself in something it took something very important or a loud, bothersome Englishman to snap him out of focus, but like everything seemed to be right now was an exception. So Arthur set his empty bowl in the sink, pulled the blind away from his window and climbed out onto the fire escape.

From his perch in the on the 3rd floor he could see a one other apartment building and the outline of the few small shops that resided in the small city of Öregrund, population 1,555. Beyond all of that he could see the ocean. Arthur remembered the first time he had arrived in Öregrund. He had taken a boat there from Stockholm Archipelago. He had taken it on a whim and used it as a stress reliever. The job he had in Stockholm was crumbling and he knew he wasn't going to get his pay so he ditched and took a boat to a place he had never heard of. The action seemed uncharacteristically impulsive and Arthur wondered if maybe deep down under the act of poise and ice cold seriousness he actually had an impulse, an impulsive nature that wasn't just used to create quick plans to defeat projections, but one that would lead him to make impossible, wonderful choices. Arthur had never been one to play down his talents. He was the best of the best and he wasn't embarrassed to show people. He had never been a coward either. Always getting into fights as a child over stupid things. Now he was more controlled. He only ever picked a fight after decided whether it was worth it and running all the scenarios of how it would play out in his head. He had become cool and calculated and that was good. It was what this business needed, but Arthur couldn't help but think about what he might have been, who he might've been. Looking at the ocean always had made Arthur think too much.

Back in side Arthur still felt chilly. Fall was ending and it was going to be winter soon and late at night (or early in the morning) it was cold and Arthur's uncovered feet and bare arms suffered the chill. Arthur didn't know what he was going to do when winter arrived. Whether he was going to tough it out in Öregrund or get a job somewhere warm, maybe Africa or somewhere in Asia. He knew that he shouldn't throw himself back into the crazy world that had become his normal but he knew he was going to get restless soon. Sitting still and relaxing were never his strong points. He really was, as Eames so thoughtfully called him ' a stick in the mud." He didn't like taking breaks until the job was done and even when it was he had a hard time winding down. He may be messy, but that didn't affect his efficiency.

He was thinking too hard and there was nothing left to organize so he slipped on the only sweatshirt he owned, grabbed a pair of gloves and tennis shoes from his closet and decided to go on a run. In most cities, like Chicago where he had grown up it wouldn't be safe to go out running at 6 in the morning when the sky was still dark, but face it, this was Öregrund. No one was going to bother him here, but Arthur almost wished someone would. He was shaking with pent up energy and longed to let it out on someone, but all he could do was run. It took him a while in the dark but eventually he remembered the old paths he used to run and his feet set him on a course towards the impending ocean.

The rhythmic sound of his feet slapping the tar ground was soothing. It was steady and solid, reliable unlike so many things in Arthur's life. When the tar turned into dirt, which eventually turned into sand Arthur removed his shoes and socks and stowed them under a bush near the gate that opened to reveal a giant stretch of sand and water. The seagulls had moved somewhere warm and there was nobody out at this time. The beach was empty except to Arthur. His feet were cold but the feeling of his feet moving along the sand made up for it. It slid under his feet as smooth as the silk Arthur often wore. As Arthur moved farther along the beach he could feel himself being pulled towards the ocean. He hadn't taken a shower in days but he didn't think that taking a dip in the Atlantic Ocean counted as taking a shower. Maybe it was because it wasn't something he would usually do or maybe he just really, really wanted to dive into the ocean, but he did it. The cold water hit his feet and ankles and Arthur just kept running further in. The water was splashing under his feet and hitting his thighs. Soon he was waist deep in the salty water. That was when he lost his footing and went diving head first into the water.

The water surrounded him as Arthur took in his last breath of air before he was completely immersed in the freezing ocean. It hit him like a kick. When he resurfaced he felt more assured that this was reality than he had been since their plane had landed in the states. His totem was in the zipped pocket of his sweatshirt, but he had no urge to check it. The water was deep enough for him to float on his back so he did. He watched the stars as they faded into the first rays of sunlight. This was when Arthur took his leave. He walked slowly out of the ocean water his body numb with wetness and cold. He would probably catch pneumonia for this, but he didn't care. This was what Arthur had needed, a reality check. He started jogging back the way he had come, less hurried and frantic than he had been on the way there. He stopped at the gate to retrieve his shoes and socks and ignored the strange looks he got from the people out opening their shops for the day ahead. The jog/run back to his apartment seemed longer than the way their and his wet clothes were slowing him down. When he got to his apartment he fished his soaked keys out of his pocket and opened the door ready to take a shower and change into clean clothes. As soon as he walked into the door he knew that that wasn't going to happen.


	3. Chapter 3

**3. Eames**

Sitting on his couch and reading a book just like Arthur had been doing only a few hours earlier was Eames. He looks up when Arthur enters the apartment only to freeze in his tracks.

"Darling," Eames starts looking him up and down, "What in God's name happened to you?" For once in his life Arthur is at a loss for words.

"I- I," he stammers his brain short circuited as soon as he saw Eames, "I couldn't sleep." His face is red and Arthur doesn't know if it's because Eames has moved into his personal space and he can practically feel the heat radiating off of him or if it's from the cold. It's probably both.

"You couldn't sleep so you decided to take a dip in the Atlantic Ocean. My dear I will never understand you." Arthur doesn't know what to say to that so he just nods.

"Well go on then," Eames says motioning with his hand towards the bathroom, "get yourself showered and into warm clothes before you die of cold. I would prefer to not have to dispose of your body." Arthur obeys, walking into his room to grab a navy sweater and a pair of tattered pajama bottoms and them goes into the bathroom. Eames could kill and dispose of his body quite easily, Arthur thinks. It's probably a good thing that he doesn't want to. Although if Eames is anything like his usual self; an annoying, self-obsessed, flirting bastard then it might be Eames' body that would be set off into the ocean instead of Arthurs.

As Arthur showers he feels like a robot. He's just going through the motions. Soaping and conditioning his hair and rubbing soap on his body as he lets the hot spray wash over him. He turns the shower off when the water starts to get cold. He doesn't know if he's been showering for five minute or for and hour but once he has changed into dry clothes and checked hit totem to make sure he isn't dreaming Arthur has regained his wits. Usually Arthur would be angry with Eames. Angry with his impulsiveness and his unannounced arrival, but all he feels is curiosity. How did Eames find him? And why? They say that curiosity killed the cat and if Arthur is a cat then Eames is a coyote. With a deep breath like he's going back into the ocean Arthur opens the door determined to get the answers he wants out of Eames.

Instead Arthur finds himself frozen again. There is Eames lying on his couch, his legs splayed and a book open on his chest and he is fast asleep. Arthur turns towards his bedroom and grabs the extra blanket he keeps in his room for cold night and goes over to lay it across Eames. He marks the page in the book and sets it on the coffee table. Arthur spreads out the checked blanket and is about to lay it over Eames' sleeping form when his eyelids flutter open to reveal tired blue-green eyes.

"Hello Arthur," Eames says and his voice is croaky from sleep.

"Hello Mr. Eames," Arthur says and despite his confusion and slight annoyance at Eames' arrival he smiles. Arthur's socked feet slip on the wood and he finds himself on top of Eames. His cheeks turn red and he scrambles to get up but stops when he feels Eames' hands on his waist. They lift him up and set him on top of Eames. His head is resting on Eames' chest and their legs are tangled together. Before he can ask what they're doing the hideous blanket is pulled around him with one of Eames' arms curling around his waist. He looks down and sees that Eames' eyes are closed a smile is still on his lips. So Arthur gives in and closes his eyes too. It's the best sleep he's gotten since the job started.


	4. Chapter 4

**4. Cabin Fever**

Arthur flinches at the hand curled around his waist until he realizes who it is. Arthur reaches for the coffee table and picks up his totem just to be safe and is surprised to see that this isn't a dream. Eames stayed. That thought surprises him almost as much as the fact that the clock on the microwave reads 2:30pm, Arthur has never slept this late in his life. Arthur removes Eames' hand and gently untangles himself. Eames stirs, but doesn't wake. He pads quietly to the cabinets and searches for the instant coffee he knows is somewhere. What gets for his efforts is the empty container. He heads into his bedroom and gets dressed for what's left of the day, a pair of black slacks and a light blue button-up and then because it's cold he says a dark gray waistcoat. He slips on the closest pair of dry shoes which happen to be Eames' and too big for his feet. As he walks down the street to the bakery near by he re-plays the nights events. Being back in dress clothes is familiar and comforting, this is what he would be wearing if he saw Eames on a job.

He converses politely in Swedish with the man at the bakery and there is only one comment about not seeing him in a while that shows that the town noticed his absence.

"Tack," he says after he's bought Eames and him a muffin each. The gun tucked into his waistband, hidden by his jacket seemed unnecessary in this town, but Arthur knew to never trust what you saw on the surface. The walk back is filled with thoughts of Eames. He still doesn't know why he's here. Maybe it's a good thing though. He was having regrets about leaving everyone without saying goodbye this could be his second chance. He and Eames could part on good terms leaving Arthur satisfied.

His apartment was as he left it except that the window was open and Eames wasn't on the couch. Arthur tucked the bag that held their breakfast under his arm and climbed out onto the fire escape where he saw Eames sitting his back towards Arthur.

"Morning Eames," he says and sits on the rail next to Eames. Their legs dangle into the open air nothing to catch them but pavement if they fall. Arthur feels the urge to jump, but ignores it. He distracts himself from the strange thought by giving Eames his muffin. It's lemon poppy seed, which Arthur somehow knows is Eames' favorite. I guess when you work with someone often you unconsciously learn things about them. What different color pens mean on their work, which back up strategies are their favorite, and apparently their favorite kind of muffin.

"Thanks Love," Eames says right before he stuffs the whole muffin in his mouth. It almost fits, but parts fall into Eames lap and crumbs stick to his lips. Arthur eats his muffin much more civilized than Eames. He breaks it in half, eating the bottom and then the top. He finishes with no crumbs on him; the parts that fell off are now on the ground 3 stories below them.

"How did you find me Eames?"

"Oh Darling," Eames laughs, "I never lost you." Apparently this is as much of an answer as Eames is going to give him because neither of them speaks anymore. Suddenly Eames swings his legs over the rail onto the grate and steps back inside the apartment. Arthur follows and he hears Eames say from the kitchen,

"I proclaim we go on an adventure. I'm going to go buy two tickets to Stockholm and we can take the boat there and spend the day exploring." When Arthur gets inside he sees Eames smiling at him. He looked very excited and really when had Arthur ever been able to turn down Eames. He had been able to make it seem like he didn't want to agree with anything the bastard said, but sometimes you have to admit when an idea is a good one.

"That sounds good Eames. I've already got cabin fever." Arthur tried smiling back at Eames, but he was sure it came out more like a grimace. This was confirmed when Eames said with a concerned look on his face,

"Arthur are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Arthur replied. He silently decided to never try smiling again.


	5. Chapter 5

I AM SO SORRY. I WILL WRITE MORE I PROMISE ITS JUST I JUST FINISHED MIDTERMS AND AM LACKING INSPIRATION UGH I'LL DO IT THOUGH.


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